


The Strongest Woman I Ever Met

by wavewright62



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Dagrenning Programme, Defence Mechanism crossover, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hotel Survivors, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavewright62/pseuds/wavewright62
Summary: Reynir comforts his young daughter after she has a bad dream.  Takes place 11 years after his sojourn in the Silent World.





	The Strongest Woman I Ever Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laufey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laufey/gifts).



> The concept of Iceland's 'Hotel Survivors' comes from the story **Defence Mechanism** by Laufey.  
>  There is some reference here to some of the racism embedded in the society she has created.

\--------------

Reynir scanned the dark sea around him. There was not a soul to be seen. While this was easily the most desirable outcome, it was still pretty lonely work. Hearing his fylgja bark behind him, Reynir turned around, expecting to hear the enigmatic dog say something completely inscrutable. Instead, the dog just stepped around in a circle twice before settling in the haven’s green grass, tongue lolling, looking pleased.

Reynir stepped out of the dark space and into his haven, turning again when a sudden almighty splashing sound erupted to his flank. The figure running toward him was 3 meters tall, arms outstretched toward him, wailing at him with a heart-rending keening. Taken aback, Reynir recoiled, but then extended his own long arms to beckon the figure to him. As he called out, the figure shrank and shrank, until she was less than a meter tall when Reynir gathered the sobbing girl up in his arms.

He woke up then, back in his cottage outside the Academy campus. The room was dim, with the curtains drawn to block out the twilight that pervaded most of the summer nights. He comforted the small girl who had crawled into the bed with him, stroking her hair and cooing reassurances at her. “It’s okay, sweet pea,” he sighed as he skooshed closer to the wall to accommodate her wriggling form, “I didn’t see any grosslings about, did you?”

“No, Pabbi,” she sniffed as she burrowed under the blankets with him, “I had a scary dream.”

“Ohhh, tell me about it,” he yawned. “Mm, sorry.”

Eleven years had passed since Reynir returned from his misadventures in the Silent World. The skalds at the Nordic Council called upon him sometimes as an advisor, but his main job was with the research and education unit at the Academy, helping them devise protective runes that could be affixed by non-mages. There was a specialised unit within the Danish military (headed up by one Mikkel Madsen) that was experimenting with adding runes to some of their equipment, although the official Danish position still denied their efficacy.

He held his daughter close to him, appreciating her tiny cold feet in warm summer night. The Dagrenning Institute were very accommodating when he approached them six years ago, looking to start a family even though he had no partner. After all, he’d grown up in a household of Dagrenning children, and although he himself was not Dagrenning, he had an appreciation for the immunity the programme offered to its progeny.

Egg donors and surrogate mothers were rather scarce, but the fact that Reynir was not overly picky about the mother’s phenotype helped smooth the way for him to jump to the head of the queue. The donor was a Hotel Survivor, descended from those non-Icelanders who had been stranded in Iceland when the borders closed in Year 0. Often of mixed race, they were mostly an underclass, looked down on by Icelandic society as a whole. But Reynir was thoroughly besotted with his little daughter, and thought her brown freckled skin and wavy black hair were the loveliest combination he had ever seen. Additionally, he was thrilled when she showed signs of having inherited his own talent for magic. At 5 years old, she was enrolling in the Academy to learn magecraft; as an immune trained seiðkona, there would be far more opportunities open to her than there were for many of the Hotel Survivors.

“It was that nasty old woman again, the one who said I was _burnt._ ”

“Ohhh. Oh, sweetie.” Reynir knew who she meant, the retired headmistress of the senior school at the Academy. The ill-tempered crone was even less accepting of people happening near her haven in the dreamworld than even Onni had been, when Reynir had first met him. The old bat placed wards around herself far worse than fast-growing trees; she hurled insults in the waking world, and nasty spells around her haven. That explained why the little girl was so big in the dream world. Fortunately the current headmistress of the school was far more accepting.   
  
He sighed and stroked her hair. “Do you remember when we went to the glacier a few weeks ago?”

“Mmm-mm.” Her breath was calming, Reynir noticed.

“Well, do you remember what happened when we came in that evening?” She only grunted in reply. “I was all red, wasn’t I?” He’d forgotten to apply sunblock lotion and had gotten quite sunburnt around his goggles. 

She giggled into the blanket, “Oh, yeah! You looked so funny, like a beetroot with white glasses.”

It was Reynir’s turn to grunt derisively. “That’s not nice, it hurt. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Pabbi,” the small voice said. “But you did look so funny.”

“Yeah, well,” Reynir squeezed her, “that’s what 'burnt' really is, is bright red like me, not pretty and brown like you. Now, go to sleep.”

“Can I stay here?”

“May I stay here…what?” He held his hand up to his ear.

“Can I stay here _please?_ ” She wriggled. “I’m not scared here.”

“Of course you can tonight, sweet pea,” Reynir murmured. “But remember, I named you Anne, after the strongest woman I ever met. I think you are going to be strong, too, and won’t have to come in here with me anymore.”

“Yeah,” the voice came back in a whisper, followed by the steady breathing of sleep.

“Good night, Anne, sweet dreams,” Reynir whispered. He fell asleep remembering the incredible sight of a thick column of terrible ghosts transformed into glowing lambs as they ascended to their gods, and that lovely old church lady who finally remembered her name as she left.


End file.
